I had this brilliant idea. See, I’m trying all hard to dump my emotional and intellectual frump, and I’m trying to make my life more efficient. I have a few hours here and there to write, so I do. I have a few hours carved out for client work, and I’m pushing hard to fill that time. I’ve recently sequestered a few hours a week for exercise, and I’m actually doing it. Hell, Interwebs, I’m actually reading again. Because I was exhausted from whining that staying at home for my kids meant there was nothing left of me. IT was time to change! Part of the July revolution around Naptime is that I wanted a crafty project to fill my two evenings with Spouse and Netflix. Watching a movie is a great joy and a collossal waste of time for someone who cannot abide sitting still. So I knit or sew or do something handsy while I watch.
And after I saw the local yarn bombings and was inspired to craftiness again, I had a brilliant idea to cross stitch snark whenever the idiot box is on. To make little pillows that say “Shut Yur Piehole” and “Bah Humbug” and “Y’all Don’t Come Back, Ya Hear?” So I searched online to find out how to cross stitch (You shut your whore mouth: sometimes my great ideas are for things I don’t know how to do. That means I’m growing while you’re busy…getting good at things you already know how to do. So you can sound better on your LinkedIn profile than I do because you “stick with projects” and “finish what you start.” Shut your talking place.)
So a quick search on DIY cross sticth revealed this site for Subversive Cross Stitch. And this book for Subversive Cross Stitch. And this blog for Seriously Seditious Stitching. Complete with feminist and disestablishmentarian gallery.
Let me get this straight, so I can phrase it with action verbs for my resume: haven’t cornered the market on bad attitude, am way late to the snarky home crafts game, will be stuck watching a movie with Spouse while knitting a plain ol’ scarf, now fully aware how petty my ideas and goals are, given the long tradition of kickass revolutionary cross stitch?!
Fathereffing hell! You see why my fathereffing frump is hanging on me like a cheap suit? I can’t catch a break in this goldanged side-project-that-takes-away-from-my-other-projects game!
Stupid effing Internet.
Now wait one crafty-mama minute. I have it. Brilliant. While I was ranting to you delightful people, another option came into view. I’m going to go work on it for one week. In the four hours designated for such a project. And if what I think will happen actually happens, you’ll be the first to hear about it.
Oh, there will be snark. Mark my words, Interwebs. I will use my powers for fun and profit if it kills me. Which it won’t. Cuz if I can thrive, staying at home for more than five years with a child who ranks right up there with the highest of the highly spirited, if I can keep snark alive without sleep for four of the last five years, if my brain can survive the years away from academia and awesomely creative careers that used to feed me, I can damned well find a way to turn a profit from my bad attitude.
See ya in a few, dear readers. Cross your fingers and your stitches and your Ts, and I’ll be on my way soon.